The Haunting of the Flesh
by Guntz
Summary: A series dedicated to fem!Thranduil x Thorin because there isn't enough to go around! [one/two/three-shots, Canon and AU]
1. Before I Die

What could have been another peaceful night without the threat of orcs catching the dwarrow and hobbit was shattered when old Dwalin had growled his way past the group. The company watched the warrior and captain disappear somewhere in the darkness of the forest and it left many wondering what was it that made him so.

Not long ago, Dori had given Dwalin the task to give their leader and king a meal for the night before heading to sleep. Said king was somewhere a little away from the group to have time for himself, to think and plan for the journey ahead or some matters to personal that not many dared to ask him. It was no trouble for the captain for he and Thorin had grown up together as children and made into fine people as time had passed. It did not take a genius to know that they were the closest brothers by bond.

So the sight of Dwalin scowling, growling, and stomping from where Thorin had been made the company falter in their merry making and wonder just what had happened between the king and his most loyal friend. None would take courage in following after Dwalin... well, mayhaps for one person that could take on whatever the tattooed dwarf would throw at him.

With one warning look from the old dwarf, Balin rose to his feet and followed after Dwalin to see what bothered his younger brother. Fili looked over his shoulder towards the opposite direction where Thorin was and could barely make out in the darkness a lonely figure sitting on a tree stump, still and tense. He guessed that Dwalin wasn't the only one that was upset.

Meanwhile, Balin finally caught up to his brother, who had found a tree he picked out to take the brunt of his wrath. The eldest son of Fundin sat on a large rock he deemed good enough for sitting, watching Dwalin hit the tree with his twin axes with such ferocity that it only gave away just how frustrated the beefy dwarf really was.

"What?" Dwalin demanded, not facing his brother.

"What?" Balin threw back instead.

Dwalin gave up on the tree and gave his brother a snarl. "You know what."

"No." Balin answered easily, talking to Dwalin with that tone he knew his younger brother hated. Like an adult talking to a stubborn child. "I don't know."

Dwalin whirled around and struck the tree with his axes with much force that Grasper and Keeper embed themselves too deep it would take some effort to get them loose. This, however, was a good opportunity to get Dwalin to open up on the subject.

"How was Thorin? Was he still having trouble with walking straight?" the adviser easily began the conversation.

"He's fine," growled the bigger dwarf. "Just fine."

"That's good to hear. It comforts me knowing that Thorin is safe and not so much troubled after the dealings with Azog..."

Dwalin faced his brother with another snarl on his face, his teeth bared but hidden under the bush of his dark beard.

"I said that he's fine! In fact, he's too busy thinking about...!" Dwalin cut himself off and just turned away to deal with the issue of his axes.

Realization hit the older dwarf like a pile of bricks collapsing from above. "Ah, I see."

It took a moment to notice the bigger dwarf had stopped struggling with his axes and was simply glaring holes at the tree like it was the bane of his existence. Balin offered a sympathetic hand over the broader shoulders of the other dwarf, feeling his brother tense for a brief moment before relaxing... but only slightly.

"After all this time, he still holds onto her. Even after what she had done to him, to all of us, he still cannot let go of that cursed woman."

"Aye. He won't say it, but I know he still loves her."

Dwalin licked his lips and stared at the handle of his axes before he spoke again. "We were just talking. Talking about how close to death he was before the halfling had flung himself at the orc. I don't think he meant to tell me, but he said his last thoughts were..."

"He was thinking of her." Balin finished the sentence.

"I was so angry. How could he think of her when _she_ had abandoned us! Left us all to starve and die miserably in the Wilds and scatter like ash in the wind!"

"Brother," Balin slowly said as he walked around the large frame to face Dwalin. "You of all people should know that no matter what, a dwarf who loves cannot let go of their heart so easily."

"This is a damned curse, one that had often led us to ruin than happiness." Dwalin said with bitterness laced in his voice. "I pray that nothing of that sort ever falls upon me!"

"Do not wish such a thing!" Balin admonished his brother.

"If love leads a proud kingdom to waste and a great people to disaster, then we all are better off without it!"

No more was said between the sons of Fundin that night. Balin left Dwalin alone and headed back for camp, ignoring the questions from the younger ones about what had transpired between Thorin and Dwalin. The old warrior dwarf remained in the woods and stared hard at the tree when a memory played along in his mind from a long distant past that he wished he didn't remember...

* * *

**Oo0oO**

___Dwalin had just finished his patrol and made his way into the Royal Wing of the Mountain when he came across Thorin, sitting alone and quiet on a small set of stairs that led out of the Royal Wing. He would have greeted the prince loudly if not for the somewhat crestfallen look on Thorin's face. He looked like he had been told off by his father for some mistake and it made the young soldier wonder how he could approach his friend without seeming to be nosy._

___And then he noticed a jewelry box sitting innocently beside the prince._

___By Mahal, Thorin didn't!... did he?_

___With a hint of anger boiling in his blood, the dwarf strode over to the prince and noisily sat beside him. Thorin was a bit startled but calmed when he noticed it was just Dwalin, but then he soon wished he had let him be when he saw that look on the soldier's face._

___They said nothing for awhile, basking in the silence in the halls of the Royal Wing. It didn't take long for Dwalin to open his mouth, the young soldier did often like to speak his mind and there were times that Thorin easily welcomed it... but this just wasn't one of those times. He preferred that Dwalin kept his mouth shut on this for once._

_"__Women, Thorin, are picky creatures that are demanding and expect perfection."_

_"__Dwalin..."_

_"__I mean, you make something nice for them and they just look down at ye at the end of their noses like you were giving them a pile of shit!"_

_"__That's not helping____—____"_

_"__And yer a good lad, offering a lady a gift of the finest jewelry that Erebor has to offer____—____And from the prince himself!____—____only to be turned away because it apparently wasn't good enough in the lady's standards!"_

___Thorin stared down at his feet._

___Dwalin snorted and glared at a random direction, as if the lady in question was standing there, and waved a violent gesture. "Bah! She's a blind old bat that knows nothing of the craft we put our blood and sweat into!"_

_"__Stop," Thorin spoke with a low voice, his hands clenched tightly that his knuckles were turning white. "Please. Stop talking about her."_

___The soldier stared at his prince and it only added oil to fire burning within him, disgusted with Thorin's need to protect that woman's honor. If she had any honor to begin with._

___The poor bastard, Dwalin shook his head and stared at the box, Thorin really did fancy the woman that he would take to heart her cold rejection._

_"__There's always going to be someone else," Dwalin said. "She'll be just another face in the crowd. Believe me, friend, you'll find some lass that'll put up with ya!"_

___It was meant to be a joke. Words that were suppose to lighten to the mood and take away the weight that settled deeply on the young prince's shoulders. Instead of taking comfort, it only blackened Thorin's mood as he rose to his feet, grabbed the jewelry box and stomped towards his room. Before he could truly part from the bewildered soldier, Thorin gave one last look over his shoulder and the young soldier was exposed to the depth of how open wounded the prince seemed._

_"__There won't be any other." Thorin growled past his thick, black beard to Dwalin. Blue eyes blazed with fury that only the line of Durin held. "Not like her."_

___And with that, the soldier watched the retreating back of his prince and closest friend until he disappeared around the corner, leaving the soldier all to his lonesomeness._

___Dwalin gave one last scoff to the empty air._

* * *

**Oo0oO**

On the other side of the camp, Thorin stared down at his lamp where there rested the meal that Dwalin had left him before he up and left him. The food had gone cold and remained untouched for hunger had fled the king.

The King Under the Mountain stared at the distance of the night sky and his mind led him to things he wished they would leave alone and never dwelt on again, but that proved fruitless. Memories from past events rose and painted a picture inside Thorin's mind; the kingdom Erebor mighty and prosperous as ever, the people both big and small together and at peace, and life was blissful and luxurious for everyone.

And then a figure formed, eclipsing everything until there was nothing left but that one being that has ever haunted him in both the land of dreams and reality.

The first time he had laid his sight upon her, his first thought was that somehow the Arkenstone had taken to form the most beautifulest and fairest creature in all of the good Middle-Earth. She was bright and luminous, eyes that glittered like one of the loveliest gems a poor minor had found in the mines, and luscious hair like a waterfall of gold...

Untouched by the ages of time and forever remaining an immortal beauty for all to behold.

The one woman that brought him to his knees, and the very same being that ripped his heart to shreds.

Thranduil the Elven Queen of Mirkwood.

* * *

**A/N: **Hello there! Yeah, I made this because I wanted to find a story depicting of a female Thranduil! No such luck, so I decided to do this. I hope you guys like and I didn't make Thorin into something way out of character, I just wanted to take this differently for the scenario of Thrandy being a beautiful elf maiden. I've ready way too many fem!Bilbo's (and I love them) and there are some fem!Thorin (I don't like femslash, FYI, I prefer to slash and het only (no, I don't have anything against femslash, I just don't find it alluring as guy-on-guy action).


	2. Say thy Name

**A/N: **Another chapter released! Be warned, it's not exactly explicit but it's still smut (and my first time, too! 8O)!

* * *

A supple body writhing beautifully from attention, kiss-swollen lips open and mewling sweetly at the ceiling to echo, and bare flesh exposed to the hungry and greedy eyes of a gold-lusting creature. The sight and sound displayed openly made the heat gather inside the feral being that wished nothing more than to repeat performance again and again.

Thick, large hands that were rough from gripping on a sword and handling smith work on shaping weapons and jewelry alike, glided and caressed the unblemished flesh of the immortal beauty that curled and stretched on his bedsheets. It brought pleasure to him to know that he was the reason of her state of being, her wanton moans urging him to give her more.

Oh, he would be more than happy to give her what she desired. But if only she indulged him this one thing...

He skillfully avoided touching where she most desired his hands to be. She whined, her delicate hands wrapping around his thick wrists, giving them direction but he did not budge. No matter how nicely she whimpered, he would not give more until she promised him to return the favor.

"Please..." she asked him quietly, breathless and unwounded.

"Say it." he said, brushing his lips just above her belly button and slowly moving his way up. "I want to hear you say it."

She watched him a little longer, her eyes glazing over as he moved over to her breasts but once again whimpered when he avoided her blushing pebbles...

"Please," she sighed out and pulled him closer to her, feeling his hard body that contrasted against her soft skin. "Please me, _Thorin_."

And he indulged his lovely queen.


	3. Lord take me Now

**A/N: **Ooh! Quick update here! Sorry, I just had this in my head, not quite what I wanted but close enough to put into words (that, and I was too lazy to do the whole thing).

* * *

___'By Mahal!'_ Balin nervously looked around in case anyone had noticed (which was pretty much almost a majority of people in the area). ___'Strike lightning on me or have a sink hole swallow me to the ground!'_

Thorin was glowering and brooding, giving waves of anger that most of everyone could feel coming from the unnaturally tall dwarf. The mood even put a bit of a damper on Kili and Fili! The poor boys were enjoying their ale but they were growing more concerned and worried for their uncle's unknown reason of being in such a foul mood.

Unknown reasons which Balin knew and was praying for his Maker to drop him dead and save him from the shame!

It was just a dance for goodness' sake! An event when people come together to sway along with the tunes musicians were making. And it was a good time to have celebrations considering everyone had got past the battle almost unscathed! Thorin and his nephews had gotten past the worst with their lives intact, thanks to the elves and their gifted nature to heal.

It took time but the survivors of the great battle made a small celebration between the unity of the dwarves, men, and elves. It was a rocky start, but it would eventually bring peace between the two main races that had been at each others throats for many ages.

The good start, Balin believed as he stared at the King with disdain, looked like it had a lot of work to go through.

Starting that Thorin should not throw a silent tantrum when he was watching Bard the bowman twirl Thranduil on the dance floor. The Queen of Mirkwood seemed to have come out of her shell of cool indifference when the man had offered a dance, her smile and small laughter encouraging the bowman.

"That man...!" Thorin glowered under his breath as he glared solely on Bard. "Who does he think he is?"

"That would be the King of Dale, my lord." Balin sarcastically supplied the answer.

"What are his intentions with her? Does Thranduil even know what he's trying to do?!"

"It looks like he's dancing with her and he's trying to be friendly to the one person who came to his aid after the dragon destroyed Lake Town."

The old dwarf had thought that the last remark would shut Thorin up, make the king think back to when Thranduil had been at their doorstep beside Bard when the man had come to ask for gold. It was not a way to have the king remember his reasons of hating elves, but rather than to think back to his wrong doings of declining help when the Men of Lake Town had asked for Thorin's help.

But it seemed that this particular dwarf was too busy "protecting" Thranduil's honor.

"Oh, I can see how friendly this Bard is trying to be," Thorin muttered darkly under his beard, eyes narrowing on the source of their talk.

Balin had quite enough!

"Thorin! If you are so engrossed in wanting to have the lady for yourself, then do yourself the favor of going in to take the lead of the dance!"

Thorin stared at Balin in surprise, taken aback from his loyal adviser and oldest friend's outburst. The two dwarves stared at one another for a long moment until Thorin looked away and back to the dancing crowd.

___'Finally! That will shut him up.'_ Balin smiled to himself and settled comfortably on his seat.

But the white-haired dwarf spoke too soon.

Without a word or warning, Thorin shot to his feet and headed straight into the dancing circle. The old dwarf watched Thorin march in confidently before he turned away and stared at the sky longingly, hoping that Mahal might strike him down yet so he wouldn't witness the King Under the Mountain forcefully cut in the dancing between King of Dale and Queen of Mirkwood.


End file.
